WTFFXI
by EJyPt
Summary: Insanity crept in a minute too early.
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note: Ok, uh, so this... I'm not quite sure what this is. Just something I threw together one day when I was bored at work.**

**Yeah, yeah, usual disclaimer: I do not, have not, will not, in part or as a whole, own Final Fantasy XI in any way shape or form. I merely borrow it as a medium to display my peculiar insanity. Thank you kindly.**

**And without any further adieu (yes, adieu), let the madness begin...**

_**And Now For Something Completely Different...**_

**_What the F_inal Fantasy XI**

The Intro

Vivli was lost and confused.

Being as lost and confused as she was, it was no surprise then that she had no idea where she was or what was going on. She appeared to be in the middle of a vast sprawling desert, but that did not make much sense to her, for just a few short moments ago, she had been home, eating lunch.

"Where have you been?" asked a voice that was just a bit too close, taking her completely by surprise and giving her a rather uncomfortable fright.

She whirled around to stare at the rather large bulky being that stood behind her.

Well, not directly behind her. Perhaps just a little behind and mostly to the left.

She would have undoubtedly screamed if it wasn't for the rather slight and surprising sense of recognition that she discovered she felt. Despite this recognition, however, she chose to ask the obvious question, "Who are you?"

He grunted, and replied, "You realize that, for asking such a stupid question, I'm gonna have to pull your tail." He paused as he suddenly realized a startling sudden realization. "Where's your tail?"

"I don't have a tail," replied Vivli rather indignantly, wishing he wouldn't stare so closely at her behind.

"What happened to it?" he asked, though he did not sound all that concerned. He seemed to be slightly amused as he added, "A Mithra without a tail is like... I don't know. A chocobo without its feathers. Or a summoner without a horn. Or Voldos without his ridiculous ability to offend most of the female population of every race."

Vivli shook her head, mostly in an attempt to shake free the dizzying sensation of utter confusion that threatened to overtake her mind. "I never _had _a tail," she replied, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world, "I'm _not_ a Mithra."

He appeared to be confused as well as he said, "But you're Vivli."

Vivli nodded. "And you're Bootus, which is insane, because you're not real."

The Galka stared at her for a moment, then reached out a hand and pinched her.

"Ow!" she understandably exclaimed, "What the hell!"

"I seem real enough," replied Bootus with a smirk.

"But you can't be," she told him, which in itself was not very impressive proof of her former statement.

"What if _you're_ not real?" countered Bootus, "How can we be arguing? What if you're not really Vivli? You're not even Mithra. So who are _you_?"

"I'm not the Mithra Vivli!" she replied a bit too loudly, "I'm the _author_ Vivli! You're not real because I made you up. You're in my stories."

"Then what am I doing here?" he asked, a bit too calmly for someone who wasn't supposed to exist, "And why do you live in a desert?"

"I don't live in a dessert," she said.

"Desert," he corrected.

"I don't know where we are," she added miserably, wishing she had been able to finish her lunch.

"It looks like Valkurm," replied Bootus thoughtfully, "Perhaps we should head for Selbina. And if you're the _author _Vivli, why did you write a story with a pathetic little girly girl named Vivli? A bit vain, ain'tcha, using your own name for a character whom you've failingly attempted to make the central hero, when she's so weak and useless. Besides, it's plainly obvious that _I'm_ the main protagonist of your adventures."

"Your previous statement should have a question mark at the end," she told him, "And my name isn't really Vivli. That's my pen name. It's also the name of the character I made when I played the game."

"Game?" echoed Bootus, "That doesn't make any sense. Why would you name a character after a _pen_? And who names their pens anyway? What am I named after? The ink? Is that enough question marks for you?"

"Argh, you're aggravating," she understandably complained.

"Well perhaps you shouldn't have written me this way," countered Bootus as they began walking in a direction which may or may not have been towards Selbina.

"That's just it," she replied, "I'm not even writing right now. I've been taking a break from this whole writing thing."

"No wonder my limbs feel a bit stiff," muttered Bootus, "I haven't pounded in any Beastmen skulls for quite awhile."

"See, that right there," added Vivli, "I would not have written you saying that."

"Perhaps you would have if you didn't focus most of your attention on a pathetic little girly girl as the main character," replied the Galka a bit too quickly.

Vivli groaned. "Of all the characters I could have been stuck with, why did it have to be _you_?"

"Perhaps deep within your hearts you wanted to see me the most."

Vivli glanced at him. "Hearts? I'm a human, not a Time Lord. I only have one heart."

"Yeah, and you have a strange accent," commented Bootus, "Are you from Aht Urghan?"

"I don't write with an English accent!" she fairly exclaimed, obviously a sore point which she often found herself defending. She paused for a moment, her mind racing. "Wait a moment... I think I know who's doing this."

Bootus glanced at her. "Some nefarious evil villain, intent on destroying the world?"

She shook her head. "No. Another author. Lately, he's been writing stories with alternate realities and twisting plot points. I also imagine that he's quite ruggedly handsome and I'd like to have his babies." Vivli paused and shook her head rather vehemently, as if intent on freeing it from evil spirits. "Uggh," she said, "He obviously made me say that. What I was going to say was that I don't think he's quite right in the head."

"Ah, so the writer has become the writ_ed_," said Bootus in his best wise old man voice.

"I wish he'd stop writing this annoying bickering and just get to the point of this scene already," muttered the author known as Vivli.

Without warning, a rather large heavy object suddenly fell out of the sky, landing quite uncomfortably close to them with a sand-shifting _thud_.

Vivli had to blink a few more times than necessary to be sure that her brain was correctly registering what her eyes were actually seeing.

"Well, you don't see _that_ everyday," remarked Bootus, a bit too casually for her liking.

It was a large sailing ship, its sails billowing slightly in the gentle desert breeze. It seemed quite out of place where it sat, in the middle of a sand dune.

Vivli wasn't really sure what she was about to say, yet she was interrupted nonetheless as a voice called down from above.

"Ahoy, ye land-lubberin' scurvy dogs! Sprecken avast yeselves upon yonder upwards conveyance, arrr!"

Vivli and Bootus exchanged glances.

"On a non-related topic," commented the Galka, "You seem a bit girly girlish yourself."

She just scowled at him as she began climbing the rope ladder that had been tossed down over the side of the ship.

"I'm just saying," added Bootus as he began to climb as well.

When they finally reached the top and were both standing firmly on the deck of the ship, they were approached by a rather tall lanky individual.

"Ahoy, ye land-lubber..." he paused and thought for a moment. "Wait," he added, apparently as an aside to himself, "It's not considered good form to repeat oneself when addressing others." Then to them he continued, "Forgive me, I'm new to this whole pirate thing. Don't quite have the terminology down yet. But welcome aboard me ship."

Bootus groaned, and even the author Vivli recognized the odd captain despite never having actually met him before.

"Crazy Steve?"

"A simple enough moniker," replied the Captain, "One that may or may not fit my form rather form-fittingly. I'd request to allow myself to introduce myself, but I see yourself has already introduced myself for myself. So, since it seems that only my self, your self and your self are presently accounted for, then introductions may not necessarily be needed, with the exception, of course, that I don't believe we've met."

Bootus sighed. "I'm Bootus," he said simply.

Steve glanced at the Galka's feet. "Ah, yes. Big boots _are_ required."

"I'm, uh..." began Vivli, "I guess around here, I'm known as Vivli. I'm your author."

Steve stared at her oddly. "So I'm from your head, am I? Are you the one who gave me this, then?" He raised his arm, showing her the large hook he had in place of a hand.

"Urm... no," she replied slowly.

"Well, I guess I won't be needing it then," he continued, tossing the hook over the side of the boat, revealing that a perfectly good hand had been hidden within his sleeve.

Vivli stared at him for a moment, then shook her head. "What's going on here?"

Steve squinted at her. "Where?" He glanced around. "Ah, yes. All this. You see, after much deliberation, anticipation, perspiration and hibernation, I came to the obvious conclusion and immediate decision of becoming a pirate. Yo ho ho and a barrel of rum, and all that. Though, I have not yet got meself a crew." He peered over the edge of the deck. "And now it appears that I haven't got any water." He glanced at them. "Which is a might peculiar, as I was almost fairly certain that I had enough water before. Hmmm..."

"Urm, that may be my fault," replied Vivli.

Crazy Steve glanced at her. "You took my water?"

She shook her head. "No. I, uh... it's hard to explain."

He shrugged. "I s'pose so. Ah well, so much for Pirate Captain Steve." He thought for a moment. "Maybe I'll become a Dwarf. I like their accent." He cleared his throat. "Ach, dae whit ye like wi them, Ah cannae eat since Ah got these wallies."

Vivli sighed. "I should probably get going."

Crazy Steve glanced at her. "Where?"

Bootus grunted. "It would probably be helpful if we knew where this story was going."

"I don't think even the author knows where this story is going," replied Vivli.

Steve grinned at her. "Ah like yer accent, lassie."

"I don't write with an English accent!" she exclaimed.

"Fair enough," said Crazy Steve, backing away slightly.

Bootus appeared to be in deep thought, which worried her a bit.

"You _are_ a writer," the Galka told her, "Supposedly."

_"Supposedly?"_ she echoed, "What's _that_ supposed to mean?"

Bootus raised an eyebrow. "Girly girl main hero, remember?"

She scoffed. "You're just jealous because you _weren't _the main hero. Though, I'm starting to rethink writing about you at all. Maybe I'll just add a little death scene for you when I get back home. Trampled in a chocobo stampede, or something. How about _that_?"

"Forgive me my goddess, oh great one who gave me life," replied Bootus, not sounding very repentant at all, "The point I was trying to make, before you took unreasonable offense, was that, being a writer yourself, why don't _you_ write a new direction for this story."

Vivli thought for a moment. "I'm not sure if I can from in here."

"Aha!" exclaimed Crazy Steve so suddenly that he startled her, "So you say you're trapped! With no way out but a table top and a peg leg! I believe I may be able to help you..."

He glanced at the sky. "...perhaps..."

He glanced at the deck of his ship. "...maybe..."

He glanced at Vivli. "...I think..."

"Anyway," he continued, "This reminds me of a time long ago, when I was but a wee lad. I was captured by Goblins, I was, and they were itchin' to do all manners of unsavory things to my person..."

_Many years ago..._

**Crazy Steve and the Curse of the Black LinkPearl**

It was a reasonably simple time, before the chaos of the Crystal War descended upon Vana'diel. Crazy Steve was but a wee lad then, dreaming grand romantic dreams of the sea, and of one day meeting a beautiful Merrow with glittering crimson scales.

One day he was out, digging for snails in the forest of Ronfaure, when Steve was suddenly set upon by three – no, _four_ – fairly larger than average sized Goblins–

"Wait, wait, wait," interrupted the author known as Vivli, back in the present time, "What's going on here?"

"I believe that was a flashback," informed Bootus, a bit too amused for her liking.

Crazy Steve nodded. "Aye. I was but a wee lad then, when I was suddenly set upon by four–"

"We don't have time for flashbacks," complained Vivli, "I want to get on with _this_ story, so I can finally get out of here and go home."

Before any of them had a reasonably sufficient amount of time to even _think_ about reacting, a large object fell out of the sky and landed on the deck of the ship with a loud _thud_.

Only the author known as Vivli recognized the strange tall blue box that stood before them. The door opened and a strange tall man stepped out of the box, adjusting the brown felt hat on his head as he approached them, grinning broadly. His teeth were unnaturally white. He had brown curly hair and wore an extraordinarily long multi-colored scarf around his neck.

"Home, you say?" remarked the strange fellow, "What you want to do, then, is go to see the King. He'll help you on your way."

"The King?" stammered Vivli slowly, not quite sure what to think of this recent development, "Can't _you_ just help me? Take me away in your... uh... _I can't believe I'm going to say this,_ TARDIS?"

The newcomer shook his head. "Sorry, I can't guarantee your safe return. The TARDIS has been a bit erratic lately. Besides, it's not in my contract."

She blinked. "Contract?"

"Yes. I'm only required to point you in the right direction in your search for the lost King, and to give you this." He stepped forward and handed her a small object.

She glanced at it. It was a small whistle. "What's this?" she asked.

"Looks like a whistle," commented Bootus.

"It _is_ a whistle," agreed the tall man.

"What's it for?" asked Vivli.

"What are _whistles _for?" asked Crazy Steve.

She stared at it for a moment, then put the whistle between her lips and blew.

It did not appear to make any sound whatsoever.

She stared at the odd newcomer expectantly. He just grinned at her, as if waiting for something.

Moments later, an object trundled out through the door of the tall blue box. It was a small grey metal robot in the shape of a dog.

"May I present K-9 Mark VII."

Vivli couldn't help but grin at the mechanical animal. It was so _cute_. "Seven?"

The tall man nodded. "The original K-9 stayed on a planet in a galaxy far, far away with a warrior woman named Leela." (Not to be confused with the one-eyed Leela who was captain of a delivery ship under the employ of _Planet Express_ on Earth in the 31st century). "K-9 Mark II was damaged beyond repair and had to stay behind in E-Space with the Lady Romanadvoratrelundar. And I sent Mark III as a present to an old friend named Sarah Jane Smith on Earth."

Vivli glanced at him. "What about K-9s four, five, and six?"

He shrugged. "Don't really know. Must have been after my time. I am only the _fourth _Doctor, after all. Care for a jelly baby?" He offered them a small paper bag full of soft chewy gummy bear candies.

"No, that's alright. Thanks," replied Vivli. She stared at the whistle in her hand as what it signified began to sink in. "You're _giving_ me K-9?"

The Doctor nodded. "Just to help in your quest for the King. I'll be back for him later, of course."

"The King?" said Vivli. She had nearly forgotten about that recently developed plot point. "Which King? Of San d'Oria?"

K-9 glided towards them. "Negative, Mistress," he replied a high tinny voice, "The only King that can help you return home. He is not of this planet."

"Not... from Vana'diel?" asked Bootus, not familiar with the concept of other planets other than his own.

"Then how will we find him?" asked Vivli.

"I am here to help you find him, Mistress," informed K-9.

"Well, my work here is done," announced the Doctor as he turned and walked back to his tall blue box. He opened the door and turned to give them all a big blinding grin. "Cheerio, and all that, then," he called, before disappearing inside. The door slammed shut behind him.

Bootus was scratching his head. "He's just going to stay in that little box?"

Vivli smiled knowingly. "It's not really all that little on the inside," she replied.

A moment later, an odd sound came from within the tall blue box and the small light on its top began to flash. Then it dematerialized before their very eyes, slowly fading until it had completely disappeared. The noise it made ceased shortly after it was gone.

Crazy Steve grunted. "What a way to travel," he said, but otherwise seemed to be rather unimpressed.

"Okay then, let's get this over with," began Vivli, glancing down at K-9, "So where do we start?"

"This way, Mistress," announced K-9 proudly as the cybernetic dog glided forward – and straight off the deck of the sailing ship.

"Oh no!" exclaimed Vivli, rushing to the edge of the deck.

"Ach, 'tis gon' doon!" yelled Crazy Steve.

"Ha!" laughed Bootus, "Stupid metal dog."

The author Vivli peered down over the side of the ship. She could see K-9 far below, upside down and half buried in the sand. "K-9!" she called, "Are you alright?"

"Affirmative, Mistress," came the rather faint reply.

Bootus was still grinning broadly. "You want to bring him back up? I'll go get the harpoon."

Vivli scowled at him. "No. We're going down to get him. Then we're leaving to find the King. This boat isn't going anywhere, so we'll have to find another way to travel."

"T'is nae a _boat_, lassie!" exclaimed Crazy Steve suddenly, "T'is the shipshapeiest ship ye're ever sure t'see!"

"Yeah," replied Bootus, "And if my grandmother had wheels, she'd be a wagon."

"You don't _have_ a grandmother," Vivli told him.

"Well, _if_ I did," said Bootus, "Wheels. Wagon. See previous statement."

Vivli would have no doubt given what she considered to be a rather witty yet terse reply if she had not noticed the Goblin that had suddenly appeared below.

The beastman was curiously poking K-9 with a stick.

"Hey!" she cried, "Stop that! Leave him alone!"

The Goblin glanced up at her, then raised a fist in defiance, his middle finger extended.

Vivli stared at him. "Did he just give me the finger?"

Bootus glanced down over the edge of the deck. "No, I believe he still has all his fingers."

"Did that little_ expletive deleted _just flip me the bird?" growled Vivli as she rushed to the rope ladder that still hung over the side of the ship, "Why, that _expletive deleted _little _expletive deleted _! When I get a hold of that _expletive deleted _, I'm gonna _expletive deleted _his _expletive deleted _right up his _expletive deleted _!"

Bootus sighed as he followed her down the rope ladder. "These ladders aren't built for my impressively muscled physique."

Crazy Steve appeared to be in deep thought as he stared at the Goblin below.

"A Goblin," he observed, "That reminds me of a time long ago, when I was but a wee lad. I was captured by Goblins, I was, and they were itchin' to do all manners of unsavory things to my person..."

_Many years ago..._

**Crazy Steve and the Curse of the Bla–**

"What did I say earlier?" exclaimed the author known as Vivli, "No flashbacks!"

At this point, the Goblin had already dug K-9 out of the sand and was attempting to drag the metal dog across the dune.

Vivli had reached the bottom and was about to give chase, when it suddenly came to her attention that she did not have a weapon of any kind.

"Crazy Canadian," she muttered, "How does the author expect me to survive in a desert like Valkurm?"

Nevertheless, she decided to chase after the Goblin anyway, as Bootus reached the bottom of the ladder and followed her.

"K-9!" she called, "Defend yourself! Shoot him with your nose!"

Bootus smirked. "His nose?"

Unfortunately, K-9 could not angle his head to the point necessary to aim the nozzle of his nose blaster at the Goblin Thug.

"Not a very agile thing, is it?" remarked Bootus, "It's just a metal box with a head and a tail."

Vivli ignored him, once again wishing she had some sort of weapon.

The Goblin was moving surprisingly fast across the shifting sands, despite the robot animal he was dragging behind him.

"Aarrgh," groaned Vivli, "_Any_ weapon will do."

_Being rather sympathetic to her plea, I, the author of this story, chose to concede to her wishes and have it suddenly revealed that a weapon had been hidden within her tunic the entire time._

"How convenient," muttered Vivli, as she reached into her tunic to pull out a rather large, silver...

Salad fork?

"Bloody hell," she groaned, and Bootus nearly stumbled with laughter as he ran beside her.

"Laugh it up, furball," she told him, "From this moment on, I'm writing you as a weak pathetic wimp with nothing but a blunt farming instrument as a weapon."

Bootus shrugged, yet the grin remained. "Do your worst."

"And I'm making Vivli a confident and powerful summoner," added the author Vivli, "You'll be taking orders from her, and performing menial tasks for her amusement."

The Galka's grin quickly faded. "Give me that," he grunted, grabbing the fork from her.

"Hey, you _expletive deleted _!" he roared at the rapidly receding Goblin Thug.

The Goblin glanced over his shoulder as he raced across the desert sand, dragging the helpless K-9 behind him.

Bootus chose that moment to lean forward, and with a mighty swing of his arm, he hurled the silver salad fork with such force that it shot through the air, tearing into the Goblin's left eye and embedding itself into his brain.

The Goblin stumbled, and fell to the ground, dead. His limbs were still twitching slightly when they reached him.

"Nice throw," praised Vivli, and after a moment, she added, "And also: _eewww_."

She bent down to help tilt K-9 right side up. "Are you alright?" she asked.

"Affirmative, Mistress," replied K-9, his tiny antenna ears turning from side to side atop his head.

Vivli couldn't help but grin at the mechanical animal. It was so _cute_.

"So what's our big plan, then?" asked Crazy Steve.

Vivli jumped and stared at him. "Where'd you come from?"

"My mother, I'd expect," replied the would-be pirate as he dusted the sand off his elaborately designed authentic pirate overcoat.

She shook her head. "I mean, how'd you get here so fast? I thought you were still on the ship."

Steve gave what he assumed was his most charming smile. "Ah, a pirate never gives away his secrets, milady," he declared, quickly adding, "Chocobo, anyone?"

Vivli now noticed that there were three chocobo waiting anxiously nearby.

**To be continued...**

"Aw, bloody hell," muttered Vivli.

**Author's Log, Supplemental: Additional disclaimer: I also don't own any sort of copyright to Doctor Who.**

**Cheerio, and all that, then.**


	2. Chapter 2

_**What the F**_**inal Fantasy XI**

Where's Wilbur?

A rather indeterminate time later, they arrived on chocobo-back to a pleasant little fishing village along the outskirts of the desert. Upon dismounting their chocobos, the large bird-like creatures proceeded to chirp and warkle, immediately taking off at a rapid pace in various random directions.

"I hate it when they do that," muttered Bootus.

Vivli glanced around the small village. "This must be Seblina then, is it?"

"Selbina," corrected Bootus, "And while at first glance I'd be inclined to agree with you, seeing that has changed my mind." He pointed.

She turned to see a large sign which read:

**WELCOME TO THE VILLAGE OF WILBUR**

**The Fishiest Little Village This Side of the Sea**

**Population: 42**

She stared at it for a moment. "_Wilbur?_"

"Nothing wrong with Wilbur," replied Crazy Steve, "Good, solid name. Puts hair on your chest."

Vivli grunted. "Okay, so this is Wilbur. Now what?" She glanced down at K-9. "Where do we go from here?"

The robotic dog's little antennae ears turned from side to side. "Considering the usual progression of an adventure that conforms to the basic RPG elements, it would be reasonable to assume that conversing with the local populace may uncover the necessary clues required to advance the plot."

"Arpijee?" muttered Bootus, "What's the little metal mutt going on about?"

"Sounds like a type of spice from Aht Urhgan," added Steve, "Just a dash of Arpijee, and a pinch of Wutai pepper, and ye'll bring out the flavor of the blandest of meals."

Any reply Vivli may have been prepared to give was abruptly interrupted by the sudden appearance of a male Hume as he burst out from the entrance of a nearby building.

He was clutching the index finger of his left hand as he ran in no particular direction that could be immediately ascertained. "Aaaaarrrrggghhhh!!!" he exclaimed, "Papyrus cut! Papyrus cut! Get thine self outta mine way!"

"Good times," replied Crazy Steve, "So just talk to the locals, eh?"

Vivli stared after the wounded Hume for a moment before replying, "I guess so. Anything to get out of this place."

"Perhaps we should split up," suggested Bootus, "We can do more damage that way."

Despite his quite reasonable suggestion, the group followed Vivli into the building that the Hume had so rapidly exited. By the picture on the sign nailed rather haphazardly above the entrance, and the rather strong smell emanating from within, it was quite apparent that this was a Fisherman's guild.

They approached the front counter and discovered that a rather scruffy-looking individual was already ahead of them, conversing with the receptionist.

"How may I be of assistance?" inquired the receptionist, a rather bookish-looking male Hume.

"Yes," replied the customer, "I would like to buy a fish license, please."

The receptionist stared at him blankly. "A what?"

"A license for my pet fish, Eric," was the confident reply.

"How did you know my name was Eric?" asked the receptionist, despite the fact that the name tag which hung rather crookedly on his lapel clearly stated his name in large bold letters.

"No no no," said the scruffy man, "My fish's name is Eric, Eric the fish. He's a moat carp."

"What?"

"He is... a... moat carp," repeated the customer slowly, with clear enunciation.

"You've got a pet moat carp?" asked the receptionist, Eric.

The rather odd-smelling customer nodded. "Yes. I chose him out of thousands. I didn't like the others, they were all too flat."

Eric's blank stare had remained decidedly intact during the exchange thus far.

"You must be a looney."

The scruffy odd-smelling fellow became rather indignant.

"I am _not _a looney! Why should I be tied with the epithet looney merely because I have a pet moat carp? I've heard tell that His Majesty Prince Trion has a pet rainbow trill called Simon, and you wouldn't call him a looney, now, would you? Furthermore, the effervescent Maiden of the Dawn, Lady Penelothorpe, had a crab called Stanford, and the third Councillor of Militia Finances of Jeuno, Alman Buttock, has two long-snout pikes, both called Chris. Even the celestial avatar Ramuh himself had a blue-scaled razor-fin named Slartibartfast! So, if you're calling the great legendary aeon of lightning a looney, I shall have to ask you to step outside!"

Eric the receptionist sighed quite heavily and audibly. "Alright, alright, alright. A license."

The customer nodded. "Yes."

"For a fish."

Another nod. "Yes."

Eric shook his head. "You _are _a looney."

The customer glared at him. "Look, it's a bleedin' pet, now, innit? I've got a license for me pet chocobo Eric, and I've got a license for me pet malboro Eric..."

Eric the receptionist sighed yet again. "You don't need a license for your... Hang on... Malboro?"

"I bleedin' well do, and I've got one! He can't be called Eric without it..."

"There's no such thing as a malboro license," assured the receptionist.

However, the customer was not so easily assured.

"Yes there is!" he exclaimed with quite an amount of vehemence.

"Isn't!" was the receptionist's witty reply.

"Is!"

"Isn't!"

"I bleedin' got one, look!" The customer rummaged through his tattered garments and pulled out a rather old yellowed parchment. "What's that then?"

Eric glanced at it. "This is a chocobo license with the word 'chocobo' crossed out and 'malboro' written in what appears to be dried rolanberry jam."

The customer grunted. "The man didn't have the right form."

It was quite apparent that the receptionist clearly wished he had not glanced at the customer so closely. "What man?"

"The man from the institute of sentient plant life," was the confident reply, as if it was quite obvious.

"The institute of the complete looney, you mean."

The customer glared at him yet again. "Look, it's people like you that cause unrest."

The receptionist sighed yet again. "How much did you pay for this?"

The fowl annoying customer thought for a moment. "650 gil, and eighteen for the seeker bat."

The receptionist was almost afraid to ask. "What seeker bat?"

"Eric the seeker bat," was the matter-of-fact reply.

"Are all your pets called Eric?" asked Eric the receptionist.

"There's nothing so odd about that," insisted the olfactory-offending customer, "Jeraf Kiminel abd-el Ataturk the Immortal had an entire menagerie called Abdul!"

"No he didn't!"

"Did!"

"Didn't!"

"Did, did, did, did, did and did!" was the intrusive customer's eloquent reply.

Eric sighed for the umpteenth time. "Oh, all right."

The customer nodded triumphantly. "Spoken like a true gentleman, sir. Now, are you going to give me a fish license?"

The receptionist was careful to reply calmly. "I assure you that there is no such thing. You don't need one."

The customer thought for a moment. "Well, in that case, give me a bee license."

The receptionist struggled greatly not to sigh. "A license for your pet bee?"

The customer nodded. "Yes."

Eric the receptionist couldn't help but ask, "Called Eric? Eric the Bee?"

"No."

"No?"

"No," replied the customer, "Eric the Half-Bee. He had an accident."

The receptionist didn't even bother to struggle with his next sigh. "You're off your chump."

The customer seemed to have just about had it with this inadequate service.

"If by that utilization of an obscure colloquialism you intend to imply that my sanity is not fully up to scratch, or indeed to deny the semi-existence of my little chum Eric the Half-Bee, then I shall have to ask you to listen to this!"

Vivli turned to the others. "Forget about this place. Let's just get out of here before they break into song."

"A one... two... A one... two... three... four..."

She had barely managed to get out though the door before the piano intro began.

"Half a bee, philosophically, must, ipso facto, half not be..."

Once outside, Vivli exhaled a sigh of relief.

"How'd you know they were going to sing?" asked Bootus.

"Because the author is bloody insane," was her reply.

They wandered over to the nearest local, a happy little Mithra who stood outside the fisherman's guild, slicing and gutting fish.

"Hi," began Vivli, not really even sure what to ask. "Um, we're looking for a king to help us get home..."

"Hiya!" exclaimed the Mithra happily, "Go to Chinatown, and find a man named Kain. He will help you."

Vivli blinked. Chinatown? "Uh, thanks."

They left the cheery catgirl as she eviscerated another moat carp.

"She reminded me of you," Bootus told Vivli, "Before you lost your tail."

"I didn't lose my tail," she replied, "I never had one."

"That looks like a reasonably dignified individual," announced Crazy Steve, drawing her attention to a figure nearby who was fully decked out in heavy silver armor.

Before she could react in any way, Steve stepped forward toward the knight and said, "Greetings, sir or madam, whichever the case may be. Can you please direct us to a place known as Chinatown, if you could be so kind?"

The knight immediately drew his sword.

"No one touches my Princess!!" he exclaimed "Light Warriors?! You impertinent fools! I, Garland, will knock you all down!!"

Bootus glanced at Vivli. "He's just gonna knock us down?"

The knight Garland jumped forward and attempted to knock the Galka's rather sizable frame over, trying quite unsuccessfully to push him with both hands stretched out. After a brief moment, he decided to put his shoulder into it, pushing with all his rather insignificant might.

Bootus brought a single fist down and knocked Garland to the ground.

"If I knock you down first, do I win a prize?" asked Bootus.

"Chinatown is over there," moaned the crumpled knight.

Vivli glanced to where he was pointing.

It was a pub. Multi-colored neon lights flashed the name of the joint in outrageously large letters, Chinatown.

A Hume suddenly ran past screaming, "Aaaarrrggghhh! For the love of the goddess! Papyrus cut! Oh sweet irony! It hurts!"

Then he was gone.

As Vivli led the others towards the pub, she said, "K-9, get your blaster ready. Things don't always go as planned inside bars like this."

The robotic dog extended his nose blaster. "Ready, Mistress."

Bootus smirked.

They entered the pub and wandered to the bar. It was rather dimly lit, and there were not very many customers this time of day.

"What'll it be?" asked the bartender, a rather odd-looking character who appeared to be some sort of sentient mushroom person.

"We're looking for someone," began Vivli.

The little mushroom guy shook his head. "I'm sorry, but the princess is in another castle."

Vivli blinked. "What? No, we're looking for a man named Kain."

The bartender pointed to the end of the bar.

A man sat slumped on a stool, sipping his drink through a large bendy straw. The most remarkable thing about him was that there didn't seem to be anything all that remarkable about him.

"Thanks," she told the bartender as she walked over to the man named Kain.

"Is your name Kain?" asked Vivli.

"If that's what the bartender told you," he replied, glancing at her, Bootus and Steve, "But he has the kind of memory that tends to be a bit less than short term, if you get the general gist of the information I'm attempting to impart."

"Are you Kain, or not?" asked Bootus rather not-so-nicely.

"Depends whether you intend bodily harm towards the specific individual in question," he replied, "Who sent you? That unpleasant yet occasionally respectable loan shark Vincini Bartholo?"

"No," assured Vivli, "No one sent us. We were told you could help us. We're looking for the King."

"The King?" echoed Kain.

"Not of San d'Oria," replied Vivli, "Another king. He's supposed to be able to help me get home."

Kain nodded. "Of course, the King. Sure, I can help you, but you'll need a boat."

Crazy Steve snapped his fingers. "And I left mine in the desert. I knew I should've got my shoes shined."

"Ask around the docks," suggested Kain, "I'm sure you'll find someone willing to help."

Vivli thanked him, then she and the others left the pub.

"Ah, the invigorating fragrance of the open sea!" exclaimed Steve joyfully as they approached the docks of Wilbur.

_**Author's note:**_** due to an unexpected power surge brought about by a fierce lightning storm, approximately 70 of the files on the computer's main hard drive had become corrupted and irretrievable. As such, to meet the required deadline, the remainder of this chapter has been written by a small group of foreign exchange students who work part-time at an inexpensive Korean animation studio for less than minimum wage. Not only has it been** **badly translated using a** **Korean to English dictionary, the Asian writers were apparently quite nerdy and watched too many episodes of Gundam and Robotech.** **Therefore I apologize for any confusion or strain on your sanity that this may cause.**

**Final the Fantasy Flevin**

The heroic venture persons and pet of metallic constitution inquire as to seaward conveyance from tiny barrel-barrel. But great interruptionensues!

The dirt beneath rumbles with great fierceness, and the sea geysers forth in sudden eruption of waves. A great beast of enormous evil emerges from the depths within with much anger and fortitude.

"Oh no!" the land cries, "It is Bahamut-Zilla! Run for your lives!"

Monstrous Bahamut-Zilla of the sea requires much destruction to placate the darkness of the square-shaped heart!

Go Zilla go! Go Zilla!

Go Zilla go! Go Zilla!

Go Zilla go! Go Zilla!

Go Zilla! Go Zilla!

Go go go! Zilla!

The captain of decent piracy and crazedness Steve jumps forth to great exclamation. "Do not fear! We will be protected by the mighty Giant Robot Defenders of Alzadaal! Look! They come forth now as I have spoken!"

And assuredly as was spoken so, the great and mighty Giant Robot Defenders appear from ancient deep ocean stronghold of much afar. Mighty gleaming metal giants with great power comes great responsibility.

They step forth to oppose great beast of evil and foul disposition.

The Blue Giant Robot with his mighty sword of righteousness!

The Red Giant Robot with his pointed spear of assuredness!

The Green Giant Robot with his sharp knives of biting toothlessness!

The Yellow Giant Robot with his pointy mace of powerful magnitude!

The Pink Giant Robot with her stinging whip of pain and humiliation!

Five mighty robots face the mighty beast of the sea in preparation of battle to come.

Then with extreme unexpected suddenness, a loud and tranceful music has broken out across the land. The Giant Robot Defenders are helpless within its tuneful hypnotherapy beat.

"Oh no! Giant Robots dancing! Who will save us now?!"

The fear of the people is a much transient solidifying thing.

But a new venture person hero appears in motoclysmic union.

"Do not fear! For it is I, the spiky-headed hero of the seventh Fantasy!"

The one-winged Cloud of shiny hope carries forth a mighty sword with magic orbital appendages.

Bahamut-Zilla jumps from sea-forged gravitation and crushes obstacle wooden made seaward conveyances and tied forth docked beached platforms like crunchy toothpick flanges.

"Gwa ha ha ha bwa ha ha ja ga ha!" commences a great laughter from large port-bellied rotund man of much financial gain and greedy purveyance. The fat man bragging does, goading the venture heroes with much gleeful happenstance. "I am happy! Business tycoon Corneo del Vanbraan I am. And you will all perish with much expired truthfulness. For it was I who summoned forth this great beast of evil! There is no escape for you now!"

"No!" cried the Balkan Bootwe, "It is _you _who shall be escaping!"

Vivli shook her head. "This is insane. What the bloody hell is going on?"

Mentally challenged Steve urged her with much hopefulness. "Only you can save us now from great horrible assuredness of sudden death!"

Super Sexy Costume Change Robot Boots!

Hero venture lady Vivli becomes surrounded by sudden lights of whiteness and colors of glittery blindness. Her garments shredded with transparent transformation.

_(Due to a brief scene of gratuitous nudity, this section has been edited by American censors)._

Scantily-clad venture female Vivli empowered by big shiny red metal boots of hope and armor-inforced conic bra of freedom!

Vivli grunted. "Give me a break. You can't be serious. This is almost bordering on sexual harassment."

"No time for reflections of inhibitual timidness!" cried the sanity unstable pirate Steve, "You must battle the Bahamut-Zilla of the sea before all is lost forever without reasonable constitution breaking point before the unrectifiable inassuredness of non-eventual back-handed greed for the unattractive overweight evil balloons of bacon fat tycoon Corneo with much unnecessary destruction and painful death ensues for the persons of every manner of life! Fight! Death screams for justifiable liberty!"

The venture hero Cloud has begun battle against the mighty Zilla, poking thine eyes with much political piercedness. The legendary sword gleaming with materia power, strikes with much forceful blows against the weakening shell of the ancient Bahamut beast. Zilla cries with much saddened mercy.

Go Zilla go! Go Zilla!

Go Zilla go! Go Zilla!

Go Zilla go! Go Zilla!

Go Zilla! Go Zilla!

Go go go! Zilla!

But Zilla can stand no longer, toppling with much rage and exhaustion.

Cloud venture hero of the seventh Fantasy is victorious greatly!

But all is not over.

The fat bastardly anti-hero of evil rage Corneo must face the super sexy venture lady Vivli in a contest of battle and magical fortitude.

Vivli blinked. "I have to _what _now?"

Corneo concentrates with much magical energies and flung forth a great sphere of electrical power.

Vivli the venture lady falls back with sudden unexpectedness, her hair singed with smoking humiliation.

She gets angrily to her feet. "Aaargh, that's _it_. K-9!"

The metallic pet of substantial fortitude becomes to her side.

Super robot dog transformer xenogears!

Small pet becomes transformation toward great robot hound of retribution!

K-9 venture robot pet leaps forth and bares vicious fangs of steel and 10 iron. Jaws of justice clamp fierceness unto the rotund fat of Corneo greedy tycoon.

"Oh no! This cannot be!" cried the fat instigator of evil destruction. "Inhumanity! Inhumanity!"

_(Due to a brief scene of extreme graphic violence, this section has been edited by American censors)._

"Victory!" cried the people of the land, "Wilbur is saved! Rejoice to the venture persons!"

And much rejoicing fills the town.

"Let's just get on with it," said Vivli impatiently, "Can I have my clothes back?"

**To be continued...**


End file.
